


choices

by thewayofthetrashcompactor (BriarLily)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Angst, Excessive mentions of jizz, F/M, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, In the Star Wars context, mostly - Freeform, secret meetings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-02 13:07:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15797157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BriarLily/pseuds/thewayofthetrashcompactor
Summary: Dark magic wasn't defeated with Voldemort. Snoke has his own plans and is quickly weaving his way into the wizarding world elsewhere.As Leia leads the underground resistance, she sends Rey out to meet with a informant deep within Snoke's inner circle whose knowledge might be able to give them the edge they need over his plans. Who Rey meets is not who she expects.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Day 6 of AU Week (Crossovers), but popping it into it's own fic since it's longer and in two parts. First comes the angst, then tomorrow comes the fluff on Day 7 for free day! (You can also check out the rest of my AU Week fics [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15748533/chapters/36622284))
> 
> Prompt for this was: "Ben and Rey sharing their taste in music, and like idk that could be a date or the first time they meet." 
> 
> It expanded a bit from the original prompt, but today Ben gets to hear Rey's taste in music, and tomorrow she hears his!

Rey taps her foot as she waits, bobbing her head to the music. The DJ in the club keeps a good energy going, and she feels the beat of the latest song in her veins, keeping pace with the pounding of her heart. She doesn’t know much about music, but the song is loud with an edge of anger, in a way she could let herself get lost in if she wasn’t already busy. She has to keep herself from checking the wand tucked into the waistband of her low-riding jeans. She’s supposed to be undercover, in a place where no blood-conscious wizard would be caught dead. 

She glances around the dark room where multicolored lights flash over the crowds of bodies, hordes of young people out to take what they can from the night. It isn’t a place where the remnants of the Death Eaters would be hanging out. The smells of alcohol and sweat have seeped into walls and sticky floors and the air of the room clings to her, humid and warm. Rey idly stirs the fruity drink dripping in her hand. She’d gotten one for appearances, wincing at the price, but doesn’t intend on drinking any of it. She leans against the small table shoved against the wall that she’d claimed for her own and scans the room again for her informant. 

A man she’d noticed hunched over another table nearby keeps watching her, likely considering his chances if he approached her. He’s not bad looking, a little odd but tall and broad, with soft dark hair that falls over his face. She has a mission though, and it’s not to get laid. He wears a black leather jacket over his black shirt, conveniently matching his black pants, and she wonders how he's not dying of heat in the crowded space. She's grateful for the lightness of her low-cut top, even though it has to be long enough to cover the suspicious bulges of the gear she's packed away. 

She tries to mentally convince the man to stay away. Unfortunately, her legilimency skills are still lacking. He drags himself up from his table, revealing he’s even taller than she’d thought, and strides lazily over to hers. 

“You actually enjoy this garbage?” he says, gesturing vaguely at the DJ as he leans next to her, interrupting the way she’d been swaying to the beat. 

Rey’s mouth falls open, the polite but firm insistence that she’s waiting for someone she’d prepared for him falling from her mind. “So what if I do?” she finally demands.

He looks at her from the corner of his eye, facing the writhing crowd filling the rest of the club with an expression of distaste. “Seriously?”

She crosses her arms. “Yes.” She’d just enjoyed it before, but now she’s ready to defend it to this asshole like it’s the best thing she’s ever heard. 

He snorts. “So much for taste.”

“I’m sorry the club isn’t playing fucking Mozart for you,” she snaps.

He rolls his eyes. “I’m not asking for an orchestra. I just don’t think it’s unreasonable to want to listen to something that doesn’t consist entirely of bass and autotune.”

“Let me guess. You don’t listen to anything that wasn’t hand carved onto a rock by true artists who’ve never willingly touched anything electronic in their lives.” She wonders if kneeing him and walking away would call too much attention to her. 

“Actually, I enjoy some good jizz,” he says, completely straight-faced.

Rey chokes. She can’t tell if that was the worst pick up line ever said or if he actually means it. 

“The new stuff too, not just the classics,” he continues, apparently taking her reaction as disbelief.

“What --” she starts to ask, and then realizes she really doesn’t want to play into whatever punchline he’s set up. “That’s...nice,” she says instead.

He frowns at her. “I know most people think it’s old fashioned, but if you really experience jizz in person…”

“Look,” she interrupts, not wanting to hear where this is going. “I’m waiting for someone. So if you --”

His frown deepens. “I know, Rey.”

She goes completely rigid, hand planting itself over where her wand is hidden before she can stop herself. “How the fuck --?”

He digs into his dark jacket and pulls a silver coin out from a hidden pocket. Her eyes widen. “I’m waiting for someone too,” he says dryly. 

She reaches into her pocket and takes out a matching coin. When they move the two together, the coins glow gently, confirming their authenticity. They both shove them away and regard each other. 

“Kylo,” he says, introducing himself. 

She knows. “How did you know it was me?” she asks. 

His lips quirk. “It wasn’t hard to pick out a wizard in this crowd.”

She bristles at that. “Between the two of us, I don’t think I was the one who had trouble blending in.”

“Between the two of us, I’m the one who recognized you,” he says, shrugging. 

She glares. “You still haven’t said how you figured that out.”

“It wasn’t so much that you’re a witch,” he says, straightening. “Just that you clearly aren’t here for the same reasons as everyone else. You’re too on edge, like you’re about to pounce. Even if you did make a good show of actually enjoying the headache they call music here.”

“I do enjoy it,” she says, scowling. 

His eyes widen. “Really? This?”

“Yes!” 

He shakes his head. “Next time we’re meeting in a jizz bar so you can see something real.”

“We’re not doing that,” she says decisively. “And you’re getting ahead of yourself. You haven’t given me anything to make this meeting worthwhile yet, let alone another one.”

“Right.” His face turns drawn and shadowed and he takes a step into her, closing most of the space between them. She nearly protests, but then he speaks in a low tone, just loud enough for her to hear over the music in their close quarters. “Snoke is building up to something big. He sees the defeat in Europe as an opportunity to expand, not a loss. He’s brought in two Death Eaters from the fight over there, and they’re angry and ready for revenge. He’s not going to stop.”

She leans back enough to be able to look up at him, something she’s not used to having to do. “How do we know that any of that is true, and it’s not just a scare tactic to put us on edge?” she hisses. “You’re one of them. How can we possibly trust you?”

His warm brown eyes meet hers intently, and something nudges at her, telling her she’s seen that look before. “What other choice do you have?” he asks, and Rey gasps as the familiarity clicks. 

Leia had said those same words to her, when Rey had demanded to know why they were even considering trusting one of the enemy. That same tone, the intense eyes with their cast of sadness, the curves of his face -- there’s no denying it. 

“It’s you,” she breathes. 

He frowns. “I thought we established that.”

She shakes her head. “No, it’s _you_. You’re Leia’s son.” His face closes off completely at that, body angling ever so slightly away from her, and she knows she’s right. 

Rumors of Leia’s son that she’d lost years before were whispered through the Resistance out of their leader’s hearing, though Rey wasn’t stupid enough to think that Leia didn’t know. Poe had shown her a photo once, when she’d gotten curious enough to ask, of him, his parents, and the general with her husband and son. Rey had found it unbearably sad at the time: Poe’s mother, Leia’s family, all lost to the First Order. But the resemblance between the happy couple she’d seen in the photo and their dark haired child to the brooding man in front of her is undeniable. 

“Of course, she didn’t mention that little detail,” he says bitterly. His hand wraps around the edge of the table, gripping hard enough that the cheap plastic creaks. 

Rey’s mind races. “How can you work for the Order? After everything they’ve done?”

“It wasn’t like that,” he says defensively, but it’s obvious the words aren’t convincing even to him. 

“Wasn’t it?” she asks, crossing her arms again, ignoring how they brush against his chest with how close they still are.

“I don't need to justify myself to you,” he snarls, lashing out like a wounded animal.

“Fine.” She shoves away from the table, fully prepared to leave. She'd known the idea that one of Snoke's own trusted leaders would turn on him was too good to be true.

“Wait.” His hand clutches desperately at hers, hot and sweaty. One sharp look from her and he drops it, though he doesn't relent. 

She stops, but doesn't relax. “I'm waiting.”

“It… made sense, at first,” he says, haltingly. She pauses, still ready to turn on her heel and leave, though something in the raw vulnerability of his expression convinces her to stay, at least to hear this.

“I believed in my grandfather's work, that we shouldn't have to hide, that all this secrecy only leads to destruction.” The words tumble out faster as he continues, and she wonders if he's ever said this to anyone before. “Magical and non magical share this planet, and we need to accept that, not bury it until it comes back to bite us all, again. Snoke made it sound like that's what he wanted too, made me feel valued, like I belonged.” He takes a deep breath, shuddering on the exhale. She shifts on her feet. It makes sense, she knows too well the kind of conflicts that have come from the Statute of Secrecy, and the kind of loneliness that makes a person ready to accept the first welcoming hand to come along.

“It was… easy. Too easy. Snoke leads the Order because he knows exactly what to say, exactly how to use the people around him. Everything we did, he explained how it was necessary, that it was for the good of everyone. It felt _right_.” He ends in a snarl, all anger turned inwards. The words come out like he's dragging them out of a morass deep inside of him, wiping them off and presenting them, still dripping, to her, in a desperate hope for her trust. His tone speaks to the bitter taste of them on his tongue. She swallows, acid burning the back of her throat.

“They killed your _father_ ,” she says. Anger and betrayal towards the only family she's known war with her sympathy. 

His broad shoulders hunch inwards, like he can collapse into himself. His voice comes out in a whisper. “I know.”

Her chest rises and falls in quick, shallow pants as the tangle of emotion rises to choke her. “They killed your _family_ and you let them brand you!”

His hand grasps his arm where she knows Snoke's mark is burned into his skin. His nails dig into his jacket. “I know,” he says again, louder, angrier. “I'm reminded every single day that this is a part of me.”

“You're not the only one,” she says viciously. “Can you even imagine what you've done to your mother?”

For the first time since they've met, she has the fleeting fear that he might hurt her. It passes in an instant, the rage twisting his features pressing in and collapsing into misery. “I'll answer for that to her,” he says quietly. “Not to you.” He draws himself together, though the cracks where she can push and break him apart again remain obvious. “I can't change what I've done or what the Order has done. I want no part of what they have planned, but I know it's too late for me. I'm only here to tell you what Snoke intends. If you don't believe me, he will succeed.”

She can feel the tension surrounding them as she balances on the paper-thin edge of the choice he's given her. She wishes she knew what waited on either side. 

“Do you… regret it?” It's the one thing she needs to know.

He looks down at the table, as if the answer will rise up out of the mess of stains and spills. “So much,” he says finally, barely audible.

She nods. “Okay.” A deep breath, centering herself. “Tell me what you know.”

His head jerks up and he meets her eyes with the kind of shock that comes from a foregone assumption that he won't be believed. She steps closer to him so their voices won't carry and then reaches out to rest a hand on his hip in an awkward attempt to blend in with the couples around them. He jumps at the contact, eyes going wide. She meets his gaze steadily, even as her heart pounds so hard she can barely breathe.

“What's Snoke planning?” she asks quietly, head tilted up to his. 

The words jolt him out of the bewildered trance he'd slipped into at her touch. He clears his throat and angles himself in towards the table, distancing his front from hers. “He’s building his forces,” he says, matching her tone. “I told you about the fugitives he brought in from the remains of the order over there. I think he wants to use them to start expanding, create a base he can call on when the time comes.”

Rey nods. This is about what they’ve expected from Snoke, though the addition of new blood could be a problem. He continues. “That’s not all he’s bringing over either. There are creatures, dangerous ones, that he’s had people fetch for him, some from overseas, big shipments coming into the port. The kind of things he doesn’t have to worry about giving directions to, he’ll just let them loose and take advantage of the fallout.”

Shipments coming in. A sense of foreboding pushes against Rey, and her instincts rarely fail her. “Is that what happened to Han at the docks? He got in the way of one of those?”

He closes his eyes briefly. “Yes,” he says, choked.

She lets out a slow breath. “What kind of creatures?”

He collects himself, chest rising and falling in measure breaths. “I’m not sure. Yet. I haven’t gotten a clear look. After...that, I got in a disagreement with the new general and Snoke’s been keeping me on the edges as punishment. But I’ll find out.”

“Okay,” she says, tapping her fingers on the table as she thinks. “We need to know what to prepare for.”

“I know.” He glances back at her, letting her see the determination in his features. “As soon as I can.”

Some instinct guides her to squeeze her hand over his hip before she lets go. “Thank you.” She wipes her sweaty palm on her jeans. “Anything else you can tell us?”

He shakes his head. “Not right now. Just that you need to be ready. Things are moving quickly.”

“We will,” she assures him. 

He watches her carefully. “Will you meet me again?”

She can’t help but feel that he’s asking for more than a chance to pass on whatever intel he can gather. “Yes,” she agrees quickly. “Same place?”

“No.” He frowns. “Even if we think they won’t come here, we shouldn’t count on it. We need to keep moving. There’s another club two blocks over on 23rd, do you know it?”

She thinks. “Maybe. I’ll find it. How long do you need?”

“Not more than a week,” he says decisively. 

“Next Friday?” she suggests. 

He nods. “I’ll see you then.” He pauses, like he wants to say something else, but then nods again and turns away. 

Rey watches as he disappears into the crowd, tracking his dark hair over the dancers until she can’t see it anymore. Impulsively, she grabs her now watery drink from the table and takes a gulp. She doesn’t know what it is about Kylo, but she’s left feeling like she’d missed something. She takes another sip, not even noticing the taste as her mind plays over every detail of their interaction. He’s left her with plenty to think about. And she’ll be seeing him again. Next week. 

She finishes off her drink and heads to the bar for another. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Yes, jizz is a real type of music in the Star Wars universe.](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Jizz) (Poor Rey)
> 
> You can also find this on [tumblr](http://thewayofthetrashcompactor.tumblr.com/tagged/my-fic)! I'm always thirsty for feedback, so please tell me what you thought in the comments below! It's much appreciated <3
> 
> Hope to have part two up tomorrow!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay! Time is a problem. 
> 
> This is...a lot of jizz jokes. Apologies ahead of time.

Rey smoothes her dress down, trying to look more collected that she feels. It isn’t like she hasn’t met with Kylo -- Ben in countess bars over the past couple years. In between stumbling drunks, pounding bass, and questionable stains, he’s passed along enough information for the Resistance to have a chance against Snoke. She still remembers that final battle, the way they’d come together in perfect synchronization, the pure adrenaline coursing through her, that final moment when she thought -- before reality came crashing back in.

And this is different. It's the first chance they've had to spend time alone together since he killed Snoke. And the first time it's just about _them_. She’d never had much time for dating, between a childhood of abandonment and being dragged into a war she’d never expected. The thought makes her pause. Is this dating? He'd never really said, just asked her to meet him here. He'd been so nervous doing it too, though she hadn't been any better. It was so hard to know what to say, after all they'd done together. To go out for a normal dinner, no ulterior motives -- it’s like another life. 

She takes a deep breath. Whatever this is, she's doing no good waiting around outside. She takes one last look at the bustling street outside, witches and wizards enjoying the evening, and then pushes open the door to Max Rebo's. 

The room inside is large and holds a decent sized crowd. Brown brick walls, almost earthen in color, can barely be seen under framed photos and records that are hung so tightly that they almost look stacked, some newer, some looking like they survived the last wizarding war. The photos inhabitants jostle one another for space, settling in to get the best view of the stage at the front of the room, where a small crew is setting up a selection of instruments, a few of which Rey recognizes, but most she doesn't. She scans the room, looking for a familiar dark head. Even in the low lights, it isn't hard to find Ben. He sits at a small table alone, tapping his fingers in random patterns while his bouncing leg barely keeps from knocking into the empty chair beside him. She smiles and walks over.

“Hey,” she says as she slides into the open seat. He jerks and looks over to her, smile spreading across his face. She has a momentary vision of her leaning in to greet him with a kiss, on his cheek, on his lips, feeling that smile against her own with a comfortable ease. 

But she still doesn't know what this is. She knows more about Ben than just about anyone else, and he knows her as well as anyone, even Finn. But this is new and unfamiliar and anything more than what they've been will have to wait.

“Hey,” he says back, turning to face her. “You found it.”

“Course I did,” she says, laughing. “We've met in much more out of the way places than this.” She glances around the room again. “What is this anyway?”

“It's a jizz bar.” Her gaze snaps back to his. He looks somewhere between sheepish and pleased. “I told you I'd get you to one eventually.”

“You did,” she agrees, taking in their surroundings with a new eye. It'd been one of how favorite threats, ground out every time Rey had needed to stop him from hexing some innocent DJ who didn't meet his standards. Which, given that he hates anything resembling popular music, was often. Rey had denied it every time he'd accused her of choosing places to meet specifically to annoy him, but he hadn't been entirely wrong. She'd gained a new appreciation for the music herself in deciding what to subject him to next. Now, it appears to be her turn.

It had taken a couple confused questions before she'd finally realized that the jizz Ben referred to was a type of wizarding music and not...Well. That. Poe, who'd grown up around magic, had confirmed it in an awkward conversation. Still, the room she finds herself in, that gives a very good impression of being the underground lair of some hoarding creature, is not what she'd expected, even with that information. 

“So you finally get your chance to prove to me that this is as good as you say it is,” she said to Ben, grinning.

“It will be,” he promises. His hands twitches as if he's going to reach for hers, but he stops the motion halfway. “This is classic jizz, the best kind,” he says instead.

“I can't wait to hear it,” she assures him. She turns towards the stage, where the crew is making a variety of noises while testing the instruments. Silence falls between then and Rey fidgets. She doesn't know where this sudden need to impress him came from, but things were so much easier when all they had to worry about was keeping each other alive.

“How are you...doing?” Ben asks eventually.

“Good,” she says automatically, then stops to actually think. “Yeah. Good.” She means it, and it's a weird thing to realize. From the sympathetic look on Ben's face, he knows what she's thinking, and she relaxes. He'd always been good at understanding. ”Working on figuring out what's next,” she tells him.

He nods. “Yeah. Same here. It feels surreal.” He pauses. “I'm not sure I ever really considered that this would be over, more or less. If I did, I didn't think I'd still be…” 'Alive,’ he doesn't say, but Rey hears it nonetheless. She wraps her hand around his and squeezes.

“I'm glad you are,” she says, quiet but intent.

He nods again, throat working around his emotions. “Mom --“ And there’s another thing she thinks he never expected, calling the general that again. He says the title hesitantly, like he’s relearning how it sounds. “She’s found me work, some simple stuff at the ministry. Since I need something to do now.” A ghost of a smile crosses his face. “I’m appreciating that ridiculous mask much more now; no one there recognizes me. It’s...different.”

She smiles too, thinking how the ministry drones would react if they knew the infamous Kylo Ren was filing papers next to them. “How’s that going?”

“Haven’t destroyed any ministry property yet. Or, not anything big enough for them to get mad about,” he says wryly. 

She rolls her eyes. “That’s something.”

“It is.” He turns more serious, looking down at where their hands are still joined. His thumb rubs back and forth over her fingers. “It’s good for now. I was...frustrated with Mom at first, that she was already pushing me to do something, but I think she knew how things might go if she let me sit around the house and think too much.”

She’s seen him lost in his own head before, and thinks Leia might have had the right idea. “If you ever --” She searches for the right words. “Need someone. You can talk to me. If you want.”

His hand curls around hers from underneath. “Thanks.” His eyes meet hers briefly, warm with gratitude, before flicking down again. “So that’s me right now. I think, eventually, I want to do something else. Help people. But I need time.” She can tell the admission is hard for him, but he doesn’t dwell on it for long. “What about you? Now that you don’t have to waste all your free time with me.”

“That was never a waste,” she says automatically. He seems taken aback by her insistence, but she refuses to back down. “Never.”

“I’m glad,” he murmurs. 

She nods sharply. “Leia talked to me too,” she says, and he smiles. 

“Of course she did. Is she trying to convince you to become the next president yet?”

“Not yet,” she says, grinning. “I think she’s going to have to get Finn for that though, or maybe Rose. I couldn’t make it for that long in politics without strangling someone.”

He considers that, lips twitching. “To be fair, my mother’s not above that. But I take your meaning.”

“She offered to pay for me to go back to school though. If I wanted. Wizarding or not.” She tries not to reveal how much this has been on her mind the past few days.

Ben cocks his head. “Do you want to?”

She thinks over her answer. “I never had much time for school when I was a kid, too much going on. So I don’t know if I’ll be any good at it now. But I think I’d like to. There are so many things I don’t know about, and I want to learn all of them.”

“You should do it,” he says firmly. 

“Yeah?”

He nods. “Definitely. Find something that makes you excited, and let my mom pay for you to spend the next few years proving to everyone how good you are at it.”

“I’d have to pay her back,” Rey insists.

Ben smirks. “You could try. I’d like to watch that.” She scowls, but suspects he’s got a point. 

He hesitates over his next question. “Do you think you’d stay here? Or go somewhere else?”

“I don’t know yet,” she says honestly. “I want to see everything. But --” She can’t fully explain her reluctance to leave the city behind. All her friends are here, something she never thought she’d have to tie her down, and then there’s… “What about you?” she asks, not committing to that thought.

He bites his lip as he looks at her. “It depends,” he hedges. 

She’s about to ask what he means by that, but then the lights in the room dim as a single light comes up on the stage. The tables around them all begin to clap, and Ben takes his hand from hers to join them. She tries not to feel disappointed at the loss. She claps politely too, and a tall and heavy man steps out onto the stage. In the dark behind him, the musicians take their places by their instruments. The man’s magically amplified voice booms throughout the room.

“Welcome! Welcome, friends, to the best place for jizz in the city.” Rey chokes, unable to help herself, and senses a few glares from around her. “We’re so glad you’ve joined us tonight, because tonight, in a true celebration of jizz, we’re thrilled to present the return of the jizz master, Max Rebo himself!”

A second light appears on the stage over a short and round man with a long, hanging nose. He waves blandly to the audience as they cheer. Rey glances over to Ben. A smile edges at his lips and he claps enthusiastically. 

“So without any further ado, my fellow jizz-enthusiasts,” the announcer says as the applause fades, sweeping his arm across the stage, “the Max Rebo band!”

Lights come up across the stage, revealing the rest of the band, a motley assortment of musicians. From the looks of a few of them, they’re not all human, though Rey couldn’t say which magical humanoids the band represents. Max Rebo starts right into the first song, joined by a gaunt man with spiky hair on some sort of horn. A woman with a thin face and thick lips steps forwards and begins crooning words Rey doesn’t understand into a microphone cupped in her hand. Soon, more of the musicians play their own parts, producing noises Rey’s never heard before. 

The music builds to an arrhythmic beat, and as Rey looks around, the crowd appears to be enraptured. People sway in their seats, and a few get up to dance at the sides of the room. Beside her, Ben nods his head, hand twitching on his lap like he knows what comes next before the band plays it. She glances back at the stage, trying to make sense of the various sounds competing against each other. If she knew what any of the instruments were supposed to sound like, she thinks she might be able to appreciate this more. Instead, she finds herself wondering if the thing that might be a trumpet is supposed to sound like a duck or not. 

With some enthusiastic yelling from the lead singer, the song comes to an end. The crowd breaks into applause but the band starts into their next number before the clapping fades out. The beat speeds up this time, the singer jumping around the stage enthusiastically, and Rey observes in bewilderment. 

As the night wears on and one song fades into another, Rey finds herself watching Ben more than the band. He’s always been rubbish at hiding his emotions, everything showing on his face, and she can’t help but smile as she takes in his reaction to each number. His features show the emotion of the music better than she can understand by listening to it. He looks back over at her every once in a while, smiling, and she smiles back. When something strikes him about the music, he leans over to whisper it to her, whether it’s something about a musician’s handle on their instrument or some trivia about the song, like when they play one of the numbers that opened the club. She gets so caught up in him that she tunes the music out entirely and only notices the band has finished when Ben gets to his feet to cheer with the rest of the bar. Slightly disoriented, she stands and claps too as the band bows and accepts their accolades. 

The announced strides back out onto the stage, looking as pleased as if he’d been the one playing. “Thank you, thank you all!” he cries. “We cannot thank the Max Rebo band enough for returning tonight. If you’re dying for more jizz, we have another performance later tonight! Invite your friends, your family, and all lovers of good jizz!”

Ben turns to Rey as the lights slowly illuminate the club again, his cheeks flushed and a slight smile on his lips. “So what did you think?” he asks breathlessly. 

She hesitates, and his face falls before she says, “It was really different!”

He cocks an eyebrow at her. “Different?”

“Yeah!” She flounders. “How they -- you know, the sound and everything, it was really interesting.”

He frowns. “You didn’t like it.”

“No, that’s not --!” She huffs. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” he says dryly. “But you didn’t.”

She sighs. “It might not be my thing,” she admits, and she can see him start to blame himself already before she continues. “But I liked listening to it with you. Even if I didn’t like it, I liked that _you_ did.”

His lips roll in that particular way he has and his brow creases. “I just wanted to take you on a perfect date,” he mutters. 

“Date?” Rey asks, sitting up and leaning forward.

Ben looks even more awkward. “Yes? I was hoping -- But if you don’t want to, that’s fine, I don’t -- We can just be friends, or not, or --”

Before he can backtrack any more, Rey pushes off her chair and kisses him. He freezes under her lips, but then she cups his face in her hand and he sighs, relaxing. 

“ _Rey_ ,” he murmurs against her, and she shivers at the taste of her name on his lips. Her hand wraps around his neck to bring him closer to her, and his hands hover over her sides before she leans into him and they settle on her waist. 

Kissing Ben is so natural that she wonders how they haven’t done this before. After a few brief fumbles between chins and noses, they find their rhythm, where they can take things deeper. She drags her teeth over his full lip, loving how it gives under her and how his moan rumbles against her. His hands grip her like he’s terrified to let go, tightening every time she hits another sensitive spot, of which he seems to have many. Her fingers smooth along the lines of his jaw, then the incredible silk of his hair, before finding his ears hidden underneath. He jolts when she tugs there, and she grins. She wants to touch him everywhere, see everything that she can do to him. The knowledge that he wants this too; he’d invited her on a _date_ \-- it fills her with a giddy high, and she easily loses track of where they are. 

Someone clears their throat from next to them, and Ben jumps, jostling her from her new position on his lap. He breaks away, and she reluctantly looks up too, but not before grinning smugly at the bright shade of pink Ben has turned and the deep red of his lips. Her own feel swollen and sensitive, and she really would like to go back to what they were doing. The man still watches them impatiently though, but not without the hint of a smile on his lips. 

“We all know the romantic power of jizz, but save it for home, hmm?” he tells them, when he finally has both of their attention. 

“Yes, of course,” Ben says, breathlessly. 

“We were just leaving,” Rey assures him, standing and grabbing Ben’s hand.

Ben blinks, though he stands and joins here. “We were?”

She nods firmly. “Yep. Is that okay?” she asks Ben.

It takes a second for him to process the suggestion, but she sees the flash in his eyes as it clicks. “Yes. Definitely. We’re leaving.” He threads his fingers through hers, grabs his jacket, and they quickly walk out of the bar together. 

Their pace slows as they reach the streets, joining other couples out for a late night stroll before heading back home. Rey takes them down the path back to her apartment, and Ben willingly follows. 

“So what didn’t you like?” he asks, breaking into her thoughts of her plans once they get to her place. 

“What?” she says.

“The music. What didn’t work for you?” His tone is curious, not accusatory, and she can’t believe that he wants to talk about this again, except it’s Ben, and of course he does. 

“I don’t know,” she says distractedly. “I guess I just didn’t understand it. I don’t usually listen to a lot of wizarding music.”

He nods thoughtfully. “That makes sense. Jizz isn’t for everyone, I guess you really have to have a taste for it. And there’s good jizz and not-so-good stuff. Really depends on who’s making it”

She groans. “Oh my gosh, you have _got_ to stop saying that.”

“What?” he asks, genuinely puzzled.

“Do you know what jizz means to anyone not a wizard?” she asks, already knowing the answer.

He thinks. “I’m guessing not music,” he says wryly. 

“Definitely not,” she confirms. 

“Am I going to have to guess?”

She shakes her head. “You’d never figure it out.”

He takes that as a challenge. “Jizz for no-majs. Is jizz a food? A drink? Is it --”

She stops in the middle of the sidewalk and tugs him down for a kiss to stop that line of questioning from getting any worse. He seems entirely satisfied with the distraction, wrapping his arm around her waist to pull her up so that he can sweep into her mouth and taste her fully. They’re both breathing harder when they part again, and Rey bumps her shoulder against his as they continue to her apartment, walking a little faster now. 

“You still haven’t told me what jizz is,” he teases, and she groans.

“Later,” she says, giving in. 

“I’m going to hold you to that,” he promises. She knows he will. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also on [tumblr](http://thewayofthetrashcompactor.tumblr.com/post/177624551803/choices)!
> 
> This was supposed to end here, but now I'm thinking about a part three as a resolution. No promises on when that might happen though, the Reylo Fanfiction Anthology is coming out at the end of the month and I'll be working on that the next couple weeks. 
> 
> Please let me know what you thought below! Feedback really means a lot and is very inspiring.

**Author's Note:**

> [Yes, jizz is a real type of music in the Star Wars universe.](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Jizz) (Poor Rey)
> 
> You can also find this on [tumblr](http://thewayofthetrashcompactor.tumblr.com/tagged/my-fic)! I'm always thirsty for feedback, so please tell me what you thought in the comments below! It's much appreciated <3
> 
> Hope to have part two up tomorrow!


End file.
